She could hear the relief in Gael’s voice as Dusk once again went to the ground with a grunt and rolled over onto her side. Red bag deliveries were one of the scariest things in the foaling stall. If the placenta had detached prematurely and made an appearance first, the foal’s survival time was down to minutes, and any delay at all could be fatal. Relieved that was no longer a concern, Enya’s pulse still kicked up as excitement set in, but she forced herself to stay still. Now wasn’t the time to interfere. If they went into the stall, she’d stand up again.
‘Don’t interfere.’That had been her father’s golden rule, drilled into her since she was old enough to hold a flashlight steady while he worked. She could almost hear his voice in her head. ‘You let the mare do her job unless she asks for help.’
The mare shifted, her whole body rippling as she bore down. The sac inched forward, then the front hooves emerged, one slightly ahead of the other, cradling the foal’s nose between them. They both exhaled in relief at the perfect presentation. From where they were sitting, everything was progressing just the way it was supposed to.
“Good job, girl, you’ve got this.” Gael praised softly.
Dusk’s body was a machine, built for this single, monumental purpose. She rested for a heartbeat, her sides heaving, her breath ragged, before another contraction seized her. The sac stretched farther, the shape of a muzzle pressing against the membrane, the nostrils already flaring as if the foal inside was testing the air, preparing for its first breath. The mare grunted, her back legs trembling with the effort, her muscles coiled tight beneath her skin as the foal’s head emerged, still wrapped in the sac, the ears folded flat against its skull, the reddish, damp coat glistening under the barn light.
Enya’s nails dug crescents into her palms.
Almost there, Dusky-girl, you can do this.
Come on, momma.
Dusk’s breath came in short, sharp bursts as she worked with Mother Nature to get the foal’s shoulders free. Once they were out, the rest of its body followed in a wet, heavy rush, curling down toward the mare’s hocks. The sac tore, and the foal’s chest hitched as it fought to draw in its first breath.
Enya’s heart hammered against her ribs, each beat loud enough that she was sure Gael could hear it.
Breathe, damn you. Breathe.
She exchanged a glance with Gael, and they got to their feet.
“I’ll check.” He pointed to a wooden box. “Bring the foaling kit, but don’t come all the way in, stay at the door.”
“Okay.” Enya grabbed the box and did as she was told. As much as Enya was itching to get her hands on that baby, Dusk knew Gael best, and she didn’t want to freak her out while the foal was figuring out what this thing called life was all about.
The foal took its first ragged, gasping breath. The sac still clung to its hindquarters, but the front legs were already pushing its hooves, skidding weakly against the straw. Its coat was a deep, dark red, still slick with birth fluids, but the white blaze down its face gleamed with a darker dot right on the nose.
Aww, it has a kiss button.
How freaking adorable is that?
“Good job, Dusky-baby,” Gael crooned to the mama as he tugged the foal a little to remove him from the danger of the mama’s hooves as she got to her feet. He pushed his hand in under the foal’s tail to check the sex. “Colt.”
Enya’s throat tightened, her vision blurring for just a second.
Rain’s little brother.
Dusk was already nudging and licking on the foal, her voice a low, rumbling nicker—Get up. Get up, little one.
The foal’s hooves skidded on the straw as he fought to find purchase, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. The colt lurched upright, his front legs folding beneath him for a trembling second before he managed to press his chest off the ground. His head bobbed blindly, his eyes still half-lidded and unfocused, as he let out a thin, wavering whinny, the sound more question than cry.
Dusk answered immediately, her voice deep and steady, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air, through the straw, through the bones of the barn itself. The colt staggered toward her, his legs bowing with each step, his movements all awkward angles and trembling uncertainty. He found her flank, his muzzle rooting along her side until he latched onto her udder with a desperate, hungrygulpingsound, his tiny tail flicking with each swallow.
“Holy crap, dude. That’s fast,” Gael praised the colt. “You’ve been on your feet for all of five seconds.” The sac had torn free during the foal’s struggle, the afterbirth still dangling like a discarded rope, but the mare would take care of that soon enough. Nature didn’t need help with these things. Gael stepped around Dusk and swiftly knotted the placenta so it didn’t trail onthe ground. Having the mare step on it and rip it out could cause problems later. He unsnapped his gloves and took the fresh ones Enya fished out of the foaling kit for him.
There was something so profoundly epic about watching the first bonds of new motherhood building. The colt was drinking, his tiny muzzle smeared with milk, his tail flicking with each swallow, his ears twitching as he listened to the sounds of the barn, the sounds of his new world.
“Grab that bucket of warm water and the iodine, yeah?”
Enya didn’t hesitate as she brought him what he asked for. Dusk shifted slightly, her ears flicking back toward them, but she didn’t kick or pin her ears flat in warning. She just watched, her dark eyes weary but alert. She watched as Gael dipped the foal’s navel and took the iodine bottle back when he handed it to her.
“There. Now we wait for the kid to drop his first load.”
The wordsdrop his first loadhit her funny bone and she snickered. “I—hehe—get that straw.”
The colt’s tail lifted, his tiny body tensing as he nursed, his ribs expanding with the effort. A second later, a dark, pellet-like clump plopped onto the straw, the sound wet and heavy.
